


Ashes

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: A moment alone on a beach and a dream that crumbles to ashes....





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This is an episode tag for I've Got a Little Song Here.

Mike usually didn’t like going to the beach in the early morning.

At that time of day, the sun would not be bright enough to dispel any of the morning fog that sometimes built up along the shore. Also, it wouldn’t always be warm enough for the Texan’s liking. Most of all though, he didn’t like the unease being there so early created. Once in a while, there were a few surfers and some seagulls. But otherwise the area would be devoid of life and movement save the rolling of the waves. It was as if time itself was winding down, stripping away the energy normally present on the beach.

Still, early morning was the best time for Mike to get things accomplished. The rest of the guys preferred to sleep in, leaving the Texan plenty of time to get a few morning chores done without interruption. There were even fewer things to do than usual today and Mike had gotten them done quickly.

Now he had time for a personal chore.

He strolled a good distance from the pad before sitting down cross-legged up against one of the large rocks on the shore line. He picked up a couple pieces of driftwood nearby and broke them into smaller pieces. Then he scooped out a hole in the sand, dumping the wood inside of it. He stared at the pit for a moment more before pulling out a book of matches from his pocket. He struck one which created a tiny burst of flame at the tip. Mike wasted no time in tossing it onto the wood. The dry twigs crackled as the fire bloomed up from them.

Mike watched the fire for a couple minutes, pleased that it had grown to the perfect size so quickly. Then he reached into his jacket to pull out a bundle of papers he had hidden there. He smoothed his fingers over the papers, scanning the words that were scrawled in pencil on the top sheet. He remembered when he had written these lyrics. He had stayed up most of the night at the pad, waiting for Micky and Peter to get home from a disastrous double date. The song wasn’t really complete. Just something he had worked out not long before his friends had shown up covered in seaweed with the usual bizarre story to tell.

The Texan smiled briefly. However, when his eyes flicked back to the fire, he sighed. He had come here with a purpose, and it was time to get started. He crumpled the first sheet on the pile and threw it into the fire.

One after another, he kept wadding up papers and burning them. All of them had songs he had written on them. Some were nothing more than a few bars of music while others were completely finished. He hadn’t shown most of this stuff to the guys. He hadn’t wanted to face any possible joking around or ridicule of his work. Granted, he knew that they wouldn’t have meant anything cruel by it, but Mike was certain he would take it the wrong way just the same.

Smoke curled up as pages burned. He had made it halfway through the pile when he started to think about a conversation he had had with Davy yesterday after they had gotten back to the pad.

* * *

 

_“It’s a good thing we headed right over to that pawn shop,” Davy said. “That bloke looked like he was serious about buying your guitar.”_

_“Yeah,” Mike said softly. He gently brushed his fingers along the strings of his blonde guitar, a sensation he had thought he would never have again._

_“But it’s all worked out now,” Davy continued. “That Bernie Class got what was coming to him and you got your guitar back. I’d love to see his face when he realizes that his stuff isn’t going to be in any movie. Maybe now he’ll think twice about who he’s ripping off.”_

_Mike nodded again. At that point, Davy frowned and moved to sit down beside him._

_“Hey what’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it about your song not being in that movie? I’m sorry about that, Mike. You had a great song. It could have been in a movie if they’d just given you a chance.”_

_“No, it’s….” Mike started. Then he shook his head. “No, it’s nothing. Y’all are right. It just…wasn’t meant to be this time.”_

_“That’s the spirit,” Davy said with a smile as he nudged Mike’s arm. “You’ll see, you’ll get another song out there and this time we’ll make sure it gets to the right people. And then you’ll sell it and be a great songwriter.”_

* * *

 

Back in the present, Mike smiled again, a wistful smile. Even though he hadn’t shown it at the time; he really did appreciate how encouraging Davy was trying to be. The British boy was stubborn and argumentative, but he was also a loyal friend.

Even if Mike didn’t really agree with him this time.

The Texan threw the last of the papers into the fire. A part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing. Perhaps he wasn’t. But it was the only thing that did make sense to him right now.

A few minutes later, all of the papers had burned down to charred bits. Mike picked up another stick and smashed the bigger chunks into smaller pieces, scattering the ashes. Then he stood up and kicked dirt onto the fire to put it out.

Maybe he shouldn’t have burned all of it. But then again maybe this would give him a chance to start over if he ever decided to try songwriting again. Besides, he figured that if any of the songs were worth saving, he’d eventually remember them so he could write them down again. The thought comforted him somewhat.

Mike made sure the last embers of the fire were gone before throwing some more dirt down to bury the remains. After that, the walk back to the pad…and to the guys…was sure to be a long one.


End file.
